April 2018 IBPC nominations

Dear Babiluians, 

Let's begin our IBPC nomination process for April 2018. 

Please place links to the poems you are nominating in this thread. Feel free to nominate your own. We can send up to three for judging. You may nominate any poem that has ever been posted here or at the old site for work-shopping. 

Here is the IBPC web site: InterBoard Poetry Community. As I write, C. Wade Bentley is our esteemed judge. 

Only one poem per poet can go to IBPC in any given month from all boards. Poems that go for judging cannot have been published. 

When we know which nominated poems are eligible to go to IBPC, if more than three, we will have an open poll to decide on our entries. Generally, the last or first day of the month is as late as it should get before we start a poll.

Thanks! 

Yours, 
Rus
Thanked by 1Gracy

Comments

  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating Jim’s Ball Jar Blues:




    Purple fullness on ablate green,
    beach plums rolled in hand,
    tasting of salt from the sea and you.

    Slowly squeezed, pits slipped
    from amber pulp, finger memory
    of your juiciness bedded in my mind.

    Elixir put to pot, cooked down
    to ruby red. Finger tip taste,
    dusky and sweetly acerbic.

    Jelled, your essence. Tongue
    memories jarred for winter.




    ~~~~~
  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating Gracy’s A Day in August:




    In our infinite universe
    coetaneous rituals of life and death 
    transpire by unique congregation- 
    you celebrated birth and I was destined to die,
    within a flicker sliced from cosmic spheres,
    caprice of a callous god.

    August dayspring between earth and sky 

    Our date… shielded by seven keys
    (concealing treasures, perhaps an enigma)
    like the days Pope Gregory
    dashed into nothingness with his quill,
    veiling valiant deeds or vanities
    way back in 17th Century.

    I dream golden seconds when my fugitive spirit
    stroked your hand, hand of your incarnate soul.

    Without love, without goodbyes, 
    sidereal space steeped in riddles.
    Were there tears? A smile?
    Or was it a mere crossing of debris through ether,
    an elliptic movement near solar flare-ups?
    There’s no echo of our transit in the breeze,
    neither greetings nor pause.

    I’ll await you in regions of light
    where movement and rest are identical,
    a fusion without date nor number
    in calendars of conscious lives.

    Joyful my soul which one day you’ll escort
    at the conclusion of your darkest night.




    ~~~~~
    Thanked by 1Gracy
  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating JJ’s Do Birds Tut?




    A tendril mist spiralled 
    above Ullswater’s perpetual ripples,
    napping the moonglare with ribbons. 
    We followed the lake path
    through a pine grove 
    to find our old blue tent 
    snuggled neatly 
    in a newly set row.

    A short gallon of ale
    entered my head as a fog 
    of poetic thought about mallards, 
    songbirds and love, where soaring
    crags and silent dells welcomed 
    spring’s whimsical passion.

    I sang “Every time we say goodbye 
    I cry a little, and when you don’t 
    come back I smile a lot”.

    Diane elbowed my ribs 
    and a robin aimed droppings 
    at my dizzy head. He chittered 
    in the upper boughs,
    and through a haze of uncertainty 
    I heard two mute swans tut.

    We kissed and unzipped the tent
    then watched the swans glide away.




    ~~~~~
  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating Richard’s Lucille, Blind Son, and the Prince Albert Can?




    Tallulah, Louisiana,
    endless fields
    with baby-
    elephant-ear
    tobacco leaves,
    hanging shreds
    of cotton
    and tangerines.

    I knock
    on a paint-peeled door;
    shuffling, rustlings
    inside the shotgun shack.
    A white-haired man,
    pipe, dark glasses,
    cracks open the door.

    Sorry to bother you,
    they tol’ me
    further down
    you’re a guitar player
    tol’ me
    you make the box talk.
    I got one here,
    you wanna 
    give it a workout?

    What you drinkin?

    What’s your pleasure?

    I won’t say no to gin.

    Done.
    I’ll be right back.




    ~~~~~
  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating Don’s Nine AM




    The big male dog 
    who shares the house 
    along with two female graduate students,
    a female professorial city planner and me,
    is an energetic person. He licks his
    plastic bone, decides he liks it, snuffles with his wet tongue, 
    spreads himself on the carpet,
    ignores the four
    male cats who glide around him.
    Then he rises lumpily and
    gladly, cloppers to his
    dish of meat kibbles.
    I can hear his tongue
    and the crunch of his large teeth.




    ~~~~~
  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating Alex’ Pussy Grabbing Synchroidiocies




    That woman with you, for instance...Suzanne Lummis


     I bought a Soviet Chervontzy banknote
    with the traditional portrait of Lenin
    adorning its reddish tinted surface.
    He looks rather good and presidential
    in 1937, thirteen years after his death.
    The overall bloody  tint on the note

    makes him look more sanguine
    than he really ever was.
    The more I look at the banknote the more
    I think how far egotism propels one
    into the limelight. Stalin is on my mind.
    Mao Zedong never washed his genitals 

    except in virgin pussies. We also know
    historically that every American president
    with maybe one or two exceptions
    were skirt chasers or like they call
    themselves nowadays, pussy grabbers.
    Some of the most obvious were nearly 

    brought down because of their attraction
    to the female Euclidian triangle.
    Other's paid for one night of lust
    gratification the salary some others
    make in one year.
    I wonder how many Chervontsi 

    were spent on concubines.
    Did any of them think that a dick in a
    paramour's belly was worth adultery
    or bringing their country down?
    Look, this soliloquy is strictly about
    narcissism in the style of a noir poem

     as performed by Suzanne Lummis.
    I'm listening to her on my monitor and
    think this is the way to acquire notoriety.
    Just the way I do by associating myself
    with the unwitting collaboration of artists
    made famous for olden reasons 

    by the self professed art literati
    that had strong enough voices
    to drown the competition
    as they weighted silent artworks by silent
    artists who really had no art philosophical
    ideas as they were doing art for the sake of 

    art they figured they'll give importance
    and gain the same through them.
    And so it is that the famous and infamous
    gained their place in the sun.
    I walk Hollywood Boulevard stepping on
    the stars and realize that my day may come 

    long after I pass the celestial maps
    identifying the sidewalks.




    ~~~~~
  • Posts: 636
    I am nominating Kenny’s They Do




    They have nothing to do
    No list, no hobbies.
    In my day we built 
    crystal and ham radios
    castles and spaceships
    from tinker toys. You
    can’t build an iPhone
    it takes special machines
    only corporations can afford.
    You might learn to program
    them, but that takes years
    & dedication that they
    don’t seem to have. C’est
    la vie. I’ll soon be gone
    and won’t have to worry
    anyway it’s nature’s way
    Spirit told me that in the 70’s 
    it’s one of the Twelve Dreams.




    ~~~~~
  • Posts: 0
    Thanks Rus, as usual, I posted very late. I may tweak it a bit before the poll goes up. 
    It seems a silly excuse, but I've been feeling very sad because my 18 year old cat Scarlett died about 10 days ago. She had an intestinal tumor that could not be removed. She'd never been ill in her long life. She'd been a gift to my late husband, but he became ill and I took over. So many memories, different phases of my life. She was with us in Buenos Aires, then I brought her to Bariloche in Patagonia, where I now live alongside my daughter.
    Oops, I'm venting inappropiately...her presence is all over my cottage, including close to my computer. 
    Greetings to all the great poets in this thread,
    best, Gracy
  • Posts: 636
    My condolences, Gracy.

    7 years ago when Princess died similarly, I would see her abouut the house
  • Suffering like this is so human. Be well.
  • Posts: 0
    Great set of poems. Thanks Rus! 

    And sorry about your cat Gracy. :(

    Kenny A. Chaffin
    "Strive on with Awareness" - Siddhartha Gautama
  • Posts: 0
    Rus - I didn't revise the poem - The version included in the poll was a truncated version - only 1/4 of the full poem - I added the complete version - RC
  • Posts: 0
    BTW - what exactly is poll gadget,  ???
  • Posts: 636
    The poll gadget is what they call the thing that we vote on. It's a little piece of programming that shows up as a poll.
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